


Damned If You Don't

by vondrostes



Series: Texas Fic [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (nothing graphic) - Freeform, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Bodily Functions, Body Worship, Bottom Harry, Breathplay, Butt Plugs, Caning, Clothed Sex, Collars, Consensual Somnophilia, Dom/sub Play, Domesticity, Feminine Harry, Fisting, Flogging, Foot Massage, Frottage, Harry in Panties, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Angst, Mild Blood, Nipple Play, Nipple Torture, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Rough Oral Sex, Sub Harry, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-25 14:51:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16662899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vondrostes/pseuds/vondrostes
Summary: Harry Styles hires a professional dom to wreck him: Part Deux.





	Damned If You Don't

**Author's Note:**

> If you for some reason haven't read the first part of this series, you should start with that one first! And if you enjoyed this fic and this series in particular, please let me know! Obviously writing an OMC is a bit of a risk, so it helps when I can see that people are enjoying it. Hopefully this sequel lives up to the hype!
> 
> Twitter: @vondrostes & @vondrostesupd8s  
> Tumblr: @vondrostes

Texas got the call at three AM on a Wednesday. He flew out the following Thursday from TXL, a long international flight that he drugged himself into sleeping through at least ten hours of, wanting to be fresh and not jet-lagged all to hell when he finally landed in Suva.

From there Texas took another plane, a short charter flight to a smaller island nearby. Texas was beyond relieved to be done with traveling when he finally met Harry at his hotel, only to be shuttled into another car with the singer as soon as he stepped out of his cab. They drove across the island in near silence while still in the presence of their driver. Texas stared serenely out the window as what little civilization there had been quickly faded away.

“Where are we going?” Texas asked quietly as he watched the palm trees and tropical greenery on his left zoom by.

“Rented a place on a private beach,” Harry replied at a similar volume.

Texas slowly turned and crooked an eyebrow. Renting a beach house was kind of a big gesture. Especially since they still didn’t know each other all that well.

So far, they’d had one repeat of their first session, with hardly any deviation at all the second time. Harry hadn’t been in town longer than a few hours and hadn’t had time for more than a quick spanking and an even quicker fuck. Not that Texas hadn’t thoroughly enjoyed both.

After that had been a smattering of sessions over Skype, which had gone fine and seemed to get Harry off, but lacked the spark of an in-person scene. Texas had been craving this, actually, craving Harry—though it was embarrassing to admit even just to himself. He was eager to find out what exactly Harry was looking for this time.

Texas hadn’t brought much with him on the plane. Harry had assured him they would have anything he needed once he got there, which meant Harry’s expectations were still a complete mystery. They both decided they liked feeling out a scene together rather than having Texas structure it beforehand.

Besides, Harry’s kinks had been pretty straightforward in all their previous sessions. Texas was confident he had a handle on him at this point. He really wasn’t worried about anything Harry might throw at him during negotiation.

Until they actually sat down at the patio table facing the beach and Harry pulled out ‘The List’, that is.

“Um,” Texas said, frowning. “What the hell is this?”

Harry, to his credit, didn’t seem fazed by the question. “It’s everything I’d be willing to try,” he said, before amending, “Well, that we could feasibly do this weekend.”

Texas’s eyebrows shot up of their own accord. There was more? He shook his head an examined the list again. “This is still a lot to cover,” he replied hesitantly.

“I’m not expecting you to incorporate everything,” Harry explained as he leaned back in his chair, and with the ocean behind him, he looked like something out of a photograph. “It’s just what I’m open to.”

“Well, you’re kinda open to a lot,” Texas said, missing the innuendo until a barking laugh emerged from Harry’s throat. “Yeah, ha-ha. But really, what are your priorities for this weekend? Just so I have a baseline here.”

Harry shrugged unhelpfully. His sunglasses (hot pink) were pushed up into his hair, which was nearly down to his shoulders now in bouncy ringlets. Texas wanted to tug on them. Later.

“I just want to do what you want me to do,” Harry replied, which wasn’t much more information than if he’d said nothing at all. “I don’t want to come, though.”

“At all?” Texas said skeptically. Surely, there had to be some sort of end goal in mind.

He was familiar enough with chastity and orgasm denial in their own rights, but Harry was kind of a hedonist. Texas couldn’t imagine him jetting off to his next international destination without getting at least one orgasm out of their time together.

“For the duration of the scene,” Harry clarified.

“How long exactly do you want that to last?”

The pause before Harry replied was deafening. “Twenty-four hours,” he said, his expression perfectly blank.

Texas blinked a few times in shock. “You want to play for a full day?” he asked, a bit incredulous.

“We can sleep and eat, still,” Harry argued, missing completely the heart of Texas’s reluctance to go along with his idea. “I just want to submit to you for the full twenty-four hours. Want you to use me however you want.”

A scene that long was dangerously close to territory that Texas wasn’t comfortable getting into with any client, much less a relatively new one. But he supposed that in the grand scheme of things, twenty-four hours wasn’t that long, and it was a hard limit Harry had set for himself. At the end of the twenty-four hours, the scene would end, and their dynamic would go back to normal, whatever normal actually was. The list was helpful, too, even if it was rather intimidating in its length. Harry had done his homework.

“Fine,” Texas agreed after a long moment of consideration. He could always red-out himself if things got to be too much. They had time still to rework things if Harry’s idea didn’t pan out.

Harry didn’t seem troubled by any such worries. “Great,” he said with a bright smile, popping out of the patio chair to grab Texas’s hand and pulling him toward the sand without warning. “Let’s go skinny-dipping before it gets dark.”

They spent more than an hour out in the ocean, cavorting childishly in the waves as if both were completely oblivious to each other’s nudity—though neither made any attempt to hide it. It wasn’t until Harry called it quits and headed back toward their clothes, still strewn carelessly across the sand, that Texas allowed his mind to take a less innocent turn.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he whispered into Harry’s ear, enveloping Harry’s smaller body with his own as Harry leaned down to pick up his trousers.

Harry stiffened in his hold, and Texas could practically feel the heat from his blush radiating off his skin. He laughed, a bit uncomfortably. “People only ever say that because I’m…well, you know.” He seemed hesitant to even utter the dreaded F-word as a joke.

“People say that because they like you,” Texas assured him without letting go. “Because you’re you, and you’re too damn charming for your own good.”

Texas couldn’t see the eye-roll, but he could feel it in the way Harry shrugged him off before leaning down again to pick up the rest of his clothes. Texas watched him walk away, feeling a bit off-kilter now.

Harry didn’t seem the least bit insecure about his body; at least not in the way Texas was used to seeing from some of his clients. So maybe Harry’s comment about the presumed insincerity of his admirers wasn’t quite that simple.

Therapy wasn’t part of Texas’s job description, but a certain degree of empathy was certainly required. If Harry needed to be shown he was loved, that he was _worthy_ of love, then Texas could give him that.

Harry shooed Texas off to the shower as soon as he stepped inside, telling him to rinse off while Harry got dinner started. Texas wandered back into the kitchen wearing nothing but a pair of sage-colored silk shorts to find Harry already slaving over the stove with his hair pulled up into a crispy salt-crusted mess.

His skin wasn’t faring any better, tacky under Texas’s newly-rinsed fingertips. “You should shower, too,” Texas suggested as he leaned past Harry to take the ladle from his hands. “I just need to stir, right?”

“Break a few pieces of the curry mix into it,” Harry said, indicating the package he’d left on the counter. “I’ll be back in a mo’; try not to set anything on fire.” He punctuated the admonition with a quick kiss that should have felt stiflingly domestic, but instead just felt nice.

Texas decided not to think too hard about it. He stirred slowly, allowing the rhythmic movement of the ladle to lull him into a distracted haze as he waited for Harry to return.

He did, just a few minutes later as promised, dressed in a silk robe to match Texas’s shorts, though the hem of it just barely covered his ass.

“Are you wearing panties?” Texas asked curiously as Harry approached. He squinted, craning his neck a little to try and cop a peek. Lingerie had been one of the less surprising things on Harry’s list, but Texas hadn’t expected him to break it out before they’d even officially started.

“Guess you’ll have to wait until dinner to find out,” Harry replied coyly. He stepped back into place in front of the stove, leaving his backside exposed.

Texas was tempted to lift up the hem of the robe to check but didn’t want to spoil the surprise. Though he was fairly certain he already knew the answer.

Within the next several minutes, Texas learned two very important things about Harry Styles. One: he appreciated a bit of help in the kitchen. And two: he did not like to be hovered over while cooking. Which meant that Texas ended up at the other end of the kitchen counter prepping dessert while periodically washing Harry’s dishes as he waited for dinner to be ready.

It didn’t take too much longer, thankfully. Harry had apparently seen fit to stock their fridge with pre-packaged ingredients for meals, presumably to free up their time for more important activities. Everything seemed fresh enough, though, and Texas appreciated the effort Harry was putting into cooking even if most of the initial chopping and measuring work had already been taken care of.

By the time the table was finally set, the mango tarts had been placed in the oven for later, and Texas’s stomach was finally starting to feel the strain of having only eaten one subpar meal provided by the airline on the flight over.

“Smells good,” Texas remarked as he slotted into his chair across from Harry, who sat down in front of his curry with a blissful expression.

Harry hummed as he poked experimentally at his food. “Hopefully it meets expectations,” he joked just before taking a bite.

Texas followed suit immediately and let out a groan of satisfaction. It was lighter than most curries he’d had before, sweet rather than spicy and cut with a healthy amount of yogurt, which was good foresight on Harry’s part. “I’d say so,” he replied through a mouthful of naan. He didn’t manage to get more than a few bites in before Harry started in on the shoptalk once more.

“I guess we should discuss payment now that you know exactly what I want out of the weekend,” Harry said, still chewing his food. Texas was half-annoyed with himself that he found it endearing rather than gross.

“Your starting offer was enough to pay more than my next six months of rent,” Texas replied candidly. “I think that’ll cover it.”

“Humor me.”

Texas sighed loudly. “Fine. Add another two-percent as a tip if I can manage to make you literally pass out when you come.”

“Tex,” Harry replied in a hard voice, his eyes narrowing.

“I’m serious.”

“I’m doubling it,” Harry said as his expression relaxed. He was doing it just to be a jackass, and they both knew it.

“Give the rest to charity,” Texas suggested. “I don’t need the money, honestly.”

Harry smiled and took another bite. “Fine. Pick one and email my assistant when you’ve decided.”

Texas nodded in acknowledgment. With that out of the way, they only had to go over the parameters of their scene, the details of which Texas had already been mulling over in the back of his mind throughout the evening.

“You’re sure you want to do a full twenty-four hours,” Texas confirmed. He was still a bit hesitant about the idea. He didn’t know Harry well enough to know if he could take what Texas was willing to dish out.

But Harry’s expression as he nodded was serene as ever. “I’ve gone without an orgasm for longer than that,” he pointed out with a laugh.

Texas lifted an eyebrow. “That’s not really the part I’m worried about.”

“You are worried, then?” Harry said curiously. “What about?”

Texas wasn’t sure he knew how to give voice to his fear, exactly. “I don’t want to push you too far,” he decided. “I assume you haven’t tried something like this before?”

Harry shook his head. “It’s not as if I don’t know what I like,” he countered.

“Real-life experience is different,” Texas pointed out. “Just because you like the fantasy doesn’t mean you’ll enjoy the real thing.”

Harry pouted at him from across the table. “I can always safeword out,” he argued.

Texas wasn’t quite so sure of that with how easily Harry tended to go under when they played, but he was fairly confident in his own ability to gauge Harry’s wellbeing. It was the only reason he was even agreeing to this at all. “No gags, then,” he decided.

Harry looked a bit annoyed by that rule, but he didn’t protest. “Fine.”

“Still Minnesota?”

“Mhmm.”

Texas could tell Harry was dying to know what Texas had planned for him, but he didn’t say another word as he finished his dinner. The tarts finished in the oven just as Texas was putting away their dishes, and he watched from the sink as Harry scrambled to pull them out.

“Careful,” he warned, the word falling out automatically, and Harry glanced back at him as he opened the oven door, looking a bit startled by Texas’s overt concern. “Don’t want you to damage the goods before I’ve had a chance to use them,” Texas added, smiling broadly to let Harry know it was mostly a joke.

Only Harry didn’t take it like one. His muscles locked up, eyes glazing over as he stared at Texas with his mouth hanging open just far enough that Texas could have easily slipped two fingers inside had they been standing closer.

“Harry,” Texas said sternly, trying to snap him out of it. “Harry!”

“Wh—oh.” Harry came back to himself all at once, realizing he was still clutching a pair of potholders in one hand with the oven door hanging open. “Sorry.” He leaned down to pull out the mango tarts and when he straightened up again, his cheeks were flushed from the heat as well as a hint of embarrassment.

“See, that’s why I worry about you,” Texas told him, smiling softly as he said it so Harry would know it wasn’t that serious.

Harry frowned in concentration as he tested the tarts with a fork. “I trust you,” he said before gently blowing over the pastries to cool them. “I know you’ll take care of me.”

This time it was Texas who found himself knocked sideways by nothing more than a simple exchange of words.

They ate their tarts together in the kitchen itself, laughing over small talk once the heavier atmosphere from before had finally dissipated. Harry was messy about it, managing to get sugar and pastry crumbs all around his mouth that Texas couldn’t help but lick off.

“When do you want to start?” Texas asked him after they’d broken apart.

“Midnight?” Harry replied, his tone tinged with a bit of hopeful anticipation.

“You wanna get off once before we start?”

Harry considered it. “Yeah, all right,” he decided, with all the nonchalance of someone deciding what to eat for breakfast.

Texas dropped to his knees right there in the middle of the kitchen, placing his hands on the outside of Harry’s thighs over his robe a bit tentatively. “Is this okay?” he asked, not wanting to push Harry into doing anything he didn’t want to do.

Harry nodded shakily, spreading his legs a bit at Texas’s urging as he leaned back to brace himself against the counter.

Texas smiled when he pulled apart Harry’s silk robe to find cream-colored lace underneath. Harry was already half-hard in his panties, and Texas could have easily pulled them down and sucked him off as simple as that, but he wanted to draw this out a little longer. It was going to be Harry’s last orgasm for the next twenty-four hours, after all. Texas had an obligation to make it special.

If there was one thing Harry liked more than the feeling of too-much, it was the sensation of not-quite-enough, the torturous anticipation that came with being slowly coaxed toward the edge. Texas knew that, and he planned to exploit it—for as long as his knees would let him draw this out.

“When did you last come?” Texas asked him as he nosed over the lacy fabric still shielding Harry from view.

“This morning,” Harry said through a gasp. “At the hotel.”

“Did you fuck yourself?”

“No, didn’t have time. In the shower.”

Texas murmured something sympathetic into the hard ridge of Harry’s dick straining against the front of his panties and slid his hands down to Harry’s knees to spread his legs even wider. He used the flat of his tongue first to lick along the crotch of the panties just behind the swell of Harry’s balls, running it over the same spot again and again until Harry’s legs started to shake.

Texas pulled back after a moment, about to ask if Harry needed more, but Harry’s eyes were closed, his mouth opened in an expression of pure bliss.

Texas mouthed hotly over Harry’s bulge when he ducked back down again, making Harry shiver. They hadn’t been around each other enough for Texas to log the ins and outs of Harry’s body in full—yet—but he knew that the junction of Harry’s right thigh and groin was unusually sensitive. He took advantage of that and dug his face into the crease, licking into it like he was trying to open Harry up.

He could feel Harry’s cock twitching against his cheek as Harry himself twitched and shook like he was just barely in control of his own body. Texas liked him like that, liked pushing him just to the edge of his limits and then shepherding him back to safety again. He felt a bit drunk on it as he delved his tongue even deeper, pushing it just under the outer seam of Harry’s panties with teasing, exploratory licks.

By the time Texas actually turned his attention to the hard line of Harry’s cock, Harry was trembling violently on unsteady legs, his knuckles white against the edge of the counter. His panties were soaked through, and Texas could taste him through the thin fabric as he laved over the wet spot with his tongue.

“Gonna come,” Harry gasped out before Texas could even get him out of them, and then he did, his cock flexing against Texas’s tongue as he spurted into the panties.

“Okay?” Texas asked, slowly standing up. He pried Harry’s fingers away from the counter and moved them to his own shoulders instead, allowing Harry to lean on him as Texas helped Harry shimmy out of the now-ruined pair of panties.

“Yeah,” Harry replied breathily. He still seemed unsteady on his feet, so Texas carefully scooped his hands under Harry’s butt and lifted him so Harry could wrap his legs around Texas’s waist.

“Shower?” Texas suggested, smiling at Harry as they stared at each other from centimeters away. It was certainly more intimate than anything he’d done with his clients since getting out of sugaring, the faux affection thing not really one of Texas’s strong suits. But there was nothing fake about this. Harry was painfully easy to care about.

Harry softly grunted into his neck. “Toilet first, I think.”

Texas lugged him into the giant master bathroom and set Harry down on the toilet seat, intending to leave him there to wait while Texas fucked around with the shower before leaving Harry to his business, but of course, Harry—having an inhumanly low shame quotient—simply lifted the seat with Texas still standing right there and plopped himself down on the toilet without saying a single word about it.

Texas turned to give him a little bit of privacy, mostly for his own sake. Harry obviously didn’t seem to care. “Didn’t realize it was that urgent,” he joked as he leaned into the monumentally large shower cubicle to fiddle with the complicated looking knobs and buttons on the wall.

He heard Harry scoff from behind him. “You’ve seen my arsehole at least half a dozen times,” Harry pointed out. “Didn’t think you’d have a strop over me taking a shit with you in the room.”

“That’s a little bit different,” Texas said mildly, but it wasn’t like he was that bothered. It was just overly familiar, was all. He hadn’t been expecting it. “What’ll you do if I go to TMZ with an exclusive about this?” He let out a little hiss of triumph after finally managing to turn on the main overhead spray. “’Popstars have bowel movements too’,” he continued.

“I’d sue you,” Harry replied flatly. “Can’t have the public knowing I’m a mere mortal just like them.”

Texas rolled his eyes even though Harry couldn’t see and tried out a different knob. The shower had enough bells and whistles that by the time he was satisfied with the water pressure and temperature, Harry had finished up and wandered over to join him, still wrapped up in his silk robe, now with nothing underneath it.

“You mind if I clean myself out or would you rather I wait till you’re finished first?” Harry asked Texas right as he sidled up to him, nuzzling into his neck seductively in a way that belied the crude nature of his question.

“You’re such a charmer, Styles.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Are the next twenty-four hours going to be you just talking about shitting?” Texas replied, letting a little bit of genuine exasperation seep into his voice.

“Wasn’t planning on talking much at all really,” Harry told him. “Like the first time.” He stared at Texas all doe-eyed and Texas felt himself melt.

“In with you,” he urged with a quick swat to Harry’s backside. “You can do whatever you need to do. I’m not squeamish.”

They chatted again about their expectations and parameters for the next day while Harry washed himself out via a more thorough process than Texas would have thought necessary. But as Harry explained: “I want to be ready for anything you want to do to me.” And that had Texas feeling a bit dizzy all over again.

The overall hygiene process was (mildly put) unpleasant, and arduous enough that Texas made Harry sit down on the bench that ran along the back wall of the shower after he was finished.

“Not sure how I’m meant to just sit here and let you wash my hair while your cock is right in front of my face,” Harry joked as Texas squeezed out a dollop of shampoo onto his head.

“Shut up,” Texas replied easily. He dug his fingers eagerly into Harry’s curls, much longer now than they’d been the first time they’d met, and lathered him up. “So midnight to midnight, then.”

“Mhmm.”

“And you want me to pick anything from the list?”

“Anything you want to do,” Harry said, gazing up trustingly at Texas until a bit of soap threatened to slide down from his forehead into his eyes. He squeezed them shut. “If there’s anything not on the list that you want to try, I guess now would be the time to discuss it.”

“Have you ever been fisted before?”

Harry’s eyes shot open. He shook his head minutely, his movements limited with Texas’s fingers still tangled in his hair. “I can get four in, no problem, but I’ve never tried to do more than that,” he said.

“Do you want to?”

Harry looked suddenly rueful. “I don’t think I could keep myself from coming,” he confessed.

“Then I guess we’ll have to save it for tomorrow night,” Texas replied casually, as if they weren’t discussing the prospect of him putting his fist in Harry’s ass for the first time.

They ended up spending far too long in the shower for not having any kind of sex, but it was a really nice shower, and Texas thought Harry deserved to relax a bit before they started his twenty-four hours of full submission. It helped that the water never went cold, which meant that it was Harry who finally decided they should step out and get on with things.

The plan was for Harry to spend the day collared and plugged, ready to use whenever Texas saw fit. Once he’d toweled off, leaving a turban around his hair as they walked back into the bedroom, Harry made straight for the antique luggage trunk sitting at the foot of the bed and opened it up to reveal a smaller case inside, containing pretty much anything they might need for their activities over the weekend.

Texas peered over Harry’s shoulder as he rummaged through the various items for what he needed. There were a few things Texas thought he could put to good use the next day during their scene.

Harry finally emerged from the trunk with a plug and collar clutched in each of his hands. The collar was dark brown leather in a slim band, with a gold buckle. Harry was rich enough that Texas caught himself wondering for a moment if it was actually real gold, before realizing that wasn’t very practical. The plug, in sharp contrast to the fairly plain collar, was made of a dusky pink silicone, the outer portion capped with a tiny enamel rose. Texas desperately wanted to see it buried between Harry’s cheeks.

“You’re planning to sleep in those?” Texas inquired, not intending for it to sound as critical as it did when the words came out.

Harry frowned. “That’s the idea.” He moved to sit on the bed, legs crossed and still shamelessly naked.

“I just don’t know that wearing it to bed is going to be the most comfortable thing in the world,” Texas argued. “We could put it on tomorrow morning instead.” It seemed a little backward to be so concerned over Harry’s comfort when he was planning to actually _hurt_ him the very next day, but now that Texas had opened the floodgates, he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

“The whole point is to wear it for the full twenty-four hours,” Harry said, extending the plug and collar for Texas to take. “Not just when I’m awake.”

“Right.”

Texas accepted both items and examined them carefully. The plug was small enough that it probably wouldn’t bother Harry much while he slept, so long as he didn’t shift onto his back. The collar was lined with soft suede, but there were still metal bits from the buckle that would press against his skin. Texas promised himself he’d check for marks in the morning.

“If your fans had any idea what you get up to in the bedroom,” Texas remarked dryly.

Harry was smirking when he looked up again. “Clearly you’ve never been to one of my shows.”

“I’ll expect the VIP treatment on your next tour,” Texas replied. “On all fours, please.”

Harry shifted around so he was facing the headboard with Texas at his back and waited, perfectly still.

Texas decided to collar him first. He moved up to the side of the bed next to Harry’s head and carefully slipped the collar around his neck, slipping a finger in after he’d finished buckling it to make sure it wasn’t too tight. “Good?” he checked, waiting for Harry to nod before walking back to the luggage trunk and pulling out a bottle of lube, checking to make sure it was oil-based before crawling onto the bed between Harry’s feet.

Harry shivered at the initial touch of Texas’s palm against his ass but held still even when Texas pushed the first lube slick finger inside him. There wasn’t much need to stretch him out; the plug was small enough that he could have easily taken it unprepared, but Texas wanted to make sure Harry was adequately lubed for later.

Texas stroked inside him gently, just barely brushing over Harry’s prostate once before he withdrew. When he lifted his hand again, it was to squeeze a bit of the lube directly inside him, followed closely by the plug to keep any of it from escaping. The sheets would no doubt be a mess come morning, but Texas was planning on ruining them before the end of the day anyway.

“Ready for bed?” Texas asked Harry as he pulled apart the cheeks of his ass to get a better look at the rose-shaped plug tucked between them. He pushed his thumb up against it, eliciting an answering groan from Harry.

“Mhmm,” Harry replied, moving away from Texas’s teasing touches to flop down on the right side of the bed, the endless expanse of his naked back an open invitation.

Texas slotted himself in against Harry’s exposed skin, nosing into the crook of his neck. Harry let out a happy noise as he shivered.

“Comfortable?” Texas asked, yanking the covers up over them both. It had been warm outside, but the AC was blasting cool air, and both had their fair share of goose bumps covering their skin.

“Yeah.”

Texas leaned over to get the bedside lamps. “Wake me up if anything starts to bother you too much, okay?”

Harry murmured something that sounded like assent. It was hard to tell—he was half-asleep already.

Texas had fully expected Harry to wake him up just a few hours after they’d fallen asleep together around midnight, asking for either the collar or plug to be removed, but he was surprised when the thing that woke him before dawn was his own cock, hard against Harry’s lower back. Texas rubbed up against warm, smooth skin, seeking friction while not yet fully conscious. Instinctively he nosed into the dip of Harry’s shoulder only to find cool leather against his cheek.

Suddenly, Texas startled awake.

Harry hadn’t so much as stirred, even with Texas literally dry-humping him in his sleep, and for a second, Texas felt mildly guilty about it until he remembered what Harry’s collar meant. Using Harry for his own pleasure was the whole point of their scene. Harry wasn’t Harry anymore. He was H.

Texas probed tentatively between H’s cheeks, searching for the plug and then gently pulling it out. H was either a ridiculously deep sleeper or a very good actor; not even the rhythm of his slow breathing changed as Texas replaced the plug with his fingers, leisurely stretching H out in preparation for his cock.

H was looser than usual thanks to the combination of the plug and his sleep-lax muscles. Texas pushed into him easily, like a hot knife cutting through butter, and suppressed a groan into the soft skin just below the nape of H’s neck. He wanted to fuck H awake, as slowly as possible.  

Orgasm was a distant destination in the back of Texas’s mind as he rocked in and out of H in smooth, even strokes, trying not to jostle him as he moved. There wasn’t enough tightness or friction to actually get off on, but Texas was in heaven anyway. H was soft, and wet, and warm inside, and Texas was tempted to fall asleep just like this, without ever pulling out of him.

But his body wanted to come, even if in his mind Texas was content to just keep on fucking H forever. He sped up his strokes, reaching around to pull H’s wrist back behind him as H finally started to stir.

H made a soft sound as he finally woke, Texas now pounding into him in search of orgasm. “Need you to tighten up, baby,” Texas panted into H’s ear once he was sure H was actually awake. “Need you to be good so I can come.”

H’s response was nothing more than a mishmash of slurred gibberish, but Texas felt him clench down anyway and fucked up into H even harder.

Texas finally spilled into H with a groan that became a soft sigh, his toes curling against the sheets as he emptied himself, still thrusting into H until it bordered on too-much. “Fuck,” he hissed, finally pulling out.

H jerked a little against him but didn’t make a sound. His breathing was labored like he’d just run a marathon, and Texas didn’t even have to check to know that he was hard. Texas almost felt bad for him. Sleeping with a boner was almost impossible.

Texas reached down to pet gently around the rim of H’s used hole, feeling the slickness of his own come already starting to leak out. He was about to ask if H wanted to be cleaned off before he put the plug back in but remembered just as he opened his mouth that the idea was to avoid forcing H to make any decisions at all.

“Gonna keep you full, okay, baby?” Texas was already reaching for the plug he’d discarded behind himself on the bed. “Want you to wake up with my come still inside you.”

H whimpered quietly and arched into Texas as he slid the plug back into place.

“Try to go to sleep,” Texas encouraged, even though he couldn’t fathom how H could possibly manage it without coming first. “Need you rested for tomorrow.”

But maybe just the power of suggestion was enough. H’s breathing slowed almost immediately, and Texas could feel H’s body relaxing in his arms. He was pretty sure H fell asleep again even before he did.

The next time Texas woke up was to the sound of his phone’s alarm going off at six on the dot. He groaned and rolled away from H, who had barely moved despite the loud blaring coming from the nightstand. Texas forced himself to sit up and turned to face H, watching as his eyes finally fluttered open.

“Awake?” Texas asked. H nodded half-heartedly. “Good. I want you to go get cleaned up and make me some breakfast. You can plug yourself again when you’re finished cooking, but I want you naked for the rest of the day.”

H’s eyes widened just a bit as he laid there, still waiting, and Texas realized he hadn’t told H what to make.

“Let’s do French toast,” he suggested hastily, flushing a little in embarrassment at the slip-up. “Make a smoothie for yourself, as well.” Part of H’s fun was being made to feel less than, so no French toast for him unless Texas decided he deserved a treat, but he wasn’t about to let H starve either. Even if it was just for one day.

“Go on, then,” Texas encouraged, confident now that H had all the direction he needed to get started. “Wake me up when it’s ready.”

He laid back down against the pillows and watched as H carefully rolled out of bed, the rose-shaped plug just barely visible as he stood and padded toward the bathroom. H closed the door just as Texas’s eyes drifted shut again, the sound of the shower starting the last thing he heard before falling back asleep.

H had apparently taken ‘wake me up’ to mean that he should blow Texas under the covers until he jolted awake, because when Texas came to it was with H’s mouth on his dick, sucking furiously in an effort to make him come as quickly as possible.

Texas’s only warning before he came was a hand fisted tight in H’s curls, but H swallowed him effortlessly anyway, sitting back on his haunches when he was done with the blankets enshrouding him like a cape and a dreamy look plastered across his face.

“Breakfast?” Texas said, still a little breathless after his orgasm.

H scrambled out of bed to fetch the tray sitting on the night stand and handed it over to Texas before standing next to the bed, looking uncertain about what to do next. Texas leaned down to pat the mattress between his spread legs, tucking his knees up to create a space for H to curl up.

“You’ve been good,” Texas told him. “So I want to give you a reward. Open up.” He coaxed H’s lips open and carefully slid the fork between them, depositing a syrupy piece of toast on H’s tongue. “Good?”

H hummed happily. Texas alternated feeding himself and H until half the food was gone, and H shied away from the next bite he was offered. Texas just nodded in acknowledgement and put it in his own mouth instead.

“Can you bring me one of your books?” Texas asked a few seconds later without looking up from his food. “Whichever one you were reading on the plane.” He felt H get up from the bed and then found a book being gently nudged against his thigh after a few minutes. “Thanks.”

When H didn’t return to the space on the bed between Texas’s legs, he glanced up again to gauge his expression. It was pliant, spacey. Texas should have expected that after their previous encounters, but they’d barely touched each other so far. Apparently it didn’t take much for H to go under even when their play was mostly psychological.

“How do you feel about talking right now?” Texas asked him, making it clear with his tone that he wasn’t fishing for any particular answer.

H thought about it for a minute before opening his mouth. “Okay,” he said quietly. “It’s easier when we’re not…playing,” he admitted.

Texas had a couple subs in the past who went completely nonverbal even outside of subspace, so it wasn’t entirely foreign territory to him.

“Okay,” Texas replied back. “Just want you to know that if you need something, you can tell me whenever. And you can always red-out if you want to pause so we can talk.”

H nodded, but his expression didn’t change, assuaging any fears Texas might have had that he was quiet because he didn’t enjoy what they were doing or wanted to do something differently instead.

“Why don’t you lay down right here,” Texas said, patting the space at the end of the mattress by his feet. “You can sleep a little longer so you’re rested for later. I’m just gonna read for a bit.”

Texas passed over one of the pillows for H to take and watched as H set it down right next to his feet, curling up like a cat with Texas’s toes practically digging into his spine, like he was starved for human touch. Texas couldn’t imagine that was really the case, but what did he know?

Texas set aside his breakfast tray when he was finished and picked up the book H had brought him instead. “Norwegian Wood,” he read. “Like the Beatles song?” He looked up just in time to catch H nodding.

Texas considered that for a second as he fingered the dog-eared pages of the book. Clearly, it had been read more than once. He wondered what it was about the story that had drawn Harry in.

With a short inhale, he turned the page and began to read.

Texas was surprised to discover over the course of the next couple hours that he actually enjoyed H’s silence. It was kind of like living with a big, human-shaped cat. Texas had always valued a quiet home despite his natural extroversion, to the point where he’d even established rules with his roommate back in Berlin about keeping the noise down whenever Texas was home. Having H sitting with him was the best of both worlds. Texas got his dose of human contact without the annoyance of having to deal with tuning someone out while he was trying to focus on something else.

Texas wasn’t sure at what point H had actually fallen asleep, but suddenly he bolted upright, looking around like a startled animal while Texas watched him from over the top of the book.

“Sorry,” H said through a yawn after he’d gotten his bearings.

“It’s fine,” Texas replied. He couldn’t suppress a smile at the sight of H’s wayward curls standing on end and flopping around with every slight movement. “Your hair’s a mess. Why don’t you go bring me a brush and a hair tie, and I’ll take care of it.”

A few minutes later, Texas was perched on the edge of the bed with H kneeling between his thighs as he carefully smoothed a brush through wayward curls. H’s hair was a lot longer than it had been the first time they’d met—long enough that Texas was worried it might get in the way later if left loose.

Texas was no grooming expert, but he could manage a simple braid, so he carefully plaited and secured H’s hair, giving it a cursory tug once he was finished to make sure it was secure.

H let out a muffled whine in response, his hips jerking forward a little of their own accord. Texas pulled his hair again, just to see if it would elicit the same response. It did.

“That’s enough for now,” Texas announced.

He tapped H’s shoulder to bring him up and then angled his chin down to give him a kiss. He’d intended for the kiss to be quick, nothing more than a chaste peck of reassurance, but once Harry’s lips were pressed to his, all of Texas’s carefully laid plans went out the window.

Somehow, Texas ended up with his arms bracketing Harry’s shoulders, pressing Harry into the bed with his hips and his mouth. When he finally pulled away, both of them were hard and panting, and Texas still wasn’t sure how they’d gotten to that point. Or when he’d started thinking of Harry as Harry instead of H.

Texas sat up and wiped at his mouth, staring down contemplatively at Harry, who still looked a little lost. “That’s enough,” he said again. He felt oddly floaty himself, the way he only ever did after a scene, and he was desperate to regain control. “Get up,” he ordered. “I want to play.”

Texas could tell Harry was a little disappointed when Texas took off his collar, only for disappointment to turn to confusion as he watched Texas pull on a pair of swim trunks. But his expression changed again to curiosity when Texas began stocking his backpack with all the implements he thought they might need for their day outside. Harry didn’t ask to wear a swimsuit despite Texas’s own choice in attire; Texas didn’t tell him he could before leading them both out onto the beach.

Texas’s goal was clear: he made a beeline for the volleyball net erected in the sand to the side of the beach house and marked a spot for Harry to stand with his eyes facing the cliffs, back to the ocean.

“Stand like this,” Texas directed, pulling Harry’s arms out perpendicular to his sides. It wasn’t too warm outside, but the sun was still bright. Texas would be damned if he let Harry burn, especially since it would no doubt put a bit of a damper on the rest of their scene.

Texas carefully rubbed sunscreen onto every inch of Harry’s body while he stood perfectly still in the sand. He was tempted to praise him after but decided to hold back. The real test had yet to begin, after all.

“Elbows against the pole,” Texas ordered once he was finished applying the sunscreen.

He had Harry stand with his feet spread apart, elbows braced against one of the poles holding up the volleyball net outside the beach house, wrists turned inward. Texas was practiced enough with rope to rig up a solid binding around the entirety of Harry’s forearms in only a few minutes. It was tight enough that he couldn’t move unless his legs gave out, and that was more or less the end goal.

If Harry managed to withstand the flogging, Texas would have to think of a reward to replace the punishment he was already planning. But he wasn’t too worried.

The warm-up was easy enough. Texas wasn’t surprised at Harry’s lack of reaction to the gentle sting of the suede flogger against his ass and thighs, merely prelude for what was to come. When he switched to the oiled leather, he did so without warning Harry first, pausing only half a second between strokes so he could switch the new flogger to his dominant hand.

Harry flinched away from the bite of the leather against his already tender skin, instinctively struggling against the rope binding his arms. His legs trembled, but he remained standing.

“I need you to hold still,” Texas said calmly. “If you can’t hold still, then I’ll have to punish you.”

For a second, it was like Harry’s whole body was vibrating, and then he stilled himself, his muscles going slack as he resumed his former position.

The speed of Texas’s strokes was slow at first, increasing incrementally as if in direct response to how much Harry squirmed. The harder Harry struggled, the more Texas wanted to see him fold. His skin was already blistering, the welts across his thighs pooling with blood. It wouldn’t take much more to break the skin.

“You can word out if it’s too much,” Texas reminded Harry, but it was a taunt just as much as a reassurance. “You won’t be punished if you can’t handle it.”

Noises poured out of Harry’s mouth in an uncontrollable gush, but not a single one resembled anything close to ‘Minnesota’.

Texas was out of breath from a combination of arousal and exertion when Harry finally broke, collapsing onto his knees in the sand as he sobbed, thighs spasming from the pressure against the bruises and welts.

Texas knelt down beside Harry and began the laborious task of undoing the knots he’d bound Harry with. There was a simpler solution of course: Texas had put safety scissors in the bag just in case Harry needed to word-out. But Harry hadn’t worded out, and unless he did, Texas wasn’t going to use them. Harry would just have to sit there in the sand and suffer until Texas could finally get his wrists free.

“You were so good right up until the end,” Texas told him, unable to keep the slight note of mirth out of his voice. Teasing was his favorite part. “You only had to hold on a few more seconds and it would have been over.”

Harry let his head drop as he cried like he was mourning the loss of his own self-control. Texas smiled, thankful that he hadn’t had to push Harry too much further. He genuinely would have had to stop within the next minute whether he wanted to or not; Harry was already going to bleed from the welts Texas had left, he could tell.

“Up,” Texas instructed once Harry was free. He had to help the trembling boy to his feet, and when Texas spun him around to get a look at the damage, he couldn’t help but let out a quiet hiss of sympathy.

Harry’s thighs were a mottled purple, crosshatched with oozing red welts that were already starting to bleed ahead of schedule. It was the first time in a long time that Texas thought he might have been too rough.

“What’s your color?” Texas asked, striving to keep his voice even so Harry wouldn’t panic. Harry wasn’t in any danger, but it was important that they take a break if he really needed it.

“Green,” Harry replied dazedly.

“Can you feel your legs?” Texas checked.

“Mhmm. Hurts.”

Well, if it hurt then he wasn’t so out of it that his brain had stopped registering pain as a bad thing, which in its own way was actually good.

Texas turned Harry around again to meet his eyes. “I have a punishment for you,” he said frankly, “but it’s going to be a lot to handle. I need to know if you want to take a break first.”

Harry shook his head adamantly. “No,” he protested feebly. “I can be good. Want to.”

“All right. Take my hand.” Texas led Harry down to the shoreline with their hands twined together in a childlike fashion.

When they reached the edge of the water where the waves were just barely lapping at the sand, Texas let go of Harry, leaving him swaying on unsteady legs as Texas got things ready.

He waded into the water until it was just above his ankles at the deepest, and then carefully laid one of the towels he’d brought out down on the sand, using his feet to keep it anchored when the waves came in again.

“Lay belly down,” Texas directed. “Make sure you’re comfortable.”

Harry looked up at him uncertainly as he knelt down in the wet sand to obey, wincing with every movement of his abused thighs and ass. It would be worse when he was finally horizontal and the water came rushing over him, and Texas knew that. He was counting on it.

Texas waited until Harry was situated with his hips against the towel before moving away to strip off his shorts and toss them safely out of the ocean’s reach. Naked, he carefully sat down on the very edge of the towel, so his cock was hanging just under Harry’s mouth. Or would’ve been, if it had been hanging at all. Texas was already well on his way to hard from just the anticipation of Harry’s punishment.

And judging by the way Harry’s hips hitched against the towel underneath him, despite the full-body flinching every time a wave washed salt water over the open wounds on his ass and thighs, he was already in a similar state.

“Does it hurt?” Texas asked, even though the answer was obvious. He curled his fingers around Harry’s short braid, feeling it in his fingertips when Harry nodded, whimpering. “Gonna suck me off now,” Texas told him. “I’m not gonna let you off until you make me come, understood?”

Harry nodded, his breaths coming out in huge gusts as he crawled closer at Texas’s behest. He looked hungry, and a little scared, and Texas couldn’t have asked for a better combination when confronting someone with his cock.

“Pinch if you need to stop,” Texas reminded him, and then he was pushing Harry’s head down, not even giving him a second to prepare before shoving his cock into Harry’s warm and waiting mouth.

Harry was lucky that it wouldn’t take much for Texas to come—he could feel himself getting close after just the first few bobs of Harry’s head over his dick. He decided to make it count, pushing himself into the back of Harry’s throat, waiting for him to finally gag before applying even more pressure, until Harry was flopping around on the towel like a fish caught in a net.

The net in this case being Texas’s hands splayed across the back of Harry’s skull, keeping him pinned as Texas’s breathing grew faster, the pressure in his belly coiling and tightening until it was too much to take and he was coming down Harry’s throat with a strangled yell.

Texas pulled Harry off so fast that he didn’t even have time to swallow. There was still come dripping from Harry’s lips when a wave—taller than the ones that had preceded it—suddenly came crashing down on them, bowling Harry over onto his back and leaving Texas spluttering when they both surfaced.

“Fuck,” he said to himself, still trying to catch his breath when he remembered Harry, who had gone tumbling into the sand and had landed squarely on his injured ass. “Fuck,” Texas said again as he scrambled to his feet and hurried over to drag Harry out of the water.

Harry was crying when Texas ushered him over to the bag he’d discarded by the volleyball net, and Texas could tell immediately that they weren’t the good kind of tears. He wrapped Harry quickly in a clean towel and slung the bag over his shoulder before sizing Harry up.

It took Texas less than a second to grab Harry by the waist and sling him over his shoulder. He carried Harry like a sack of potatoes all the way back to the house and then deposited him safely on the floor when he reached the master bathroom.

“Can you come down for a minute?” Texas asked worriedly as he fiddled with the shower knobs. He didn’t want it to be too warm with the welts on Harry’s legs, but he didn’t want them to freeze either.

“I’m here,” Harry replied. His teeth were already chattering. He looked miserable. Not exactly Texas’s proudest moment.

“I need to make sure you’re okay,” Texas told him. He peeled away the towel and gently nudged Harry into the shower stall, quickly following him in before crouching down to evaluate the damage done to his thighs.

It wasn’t a pretty sight. There was sand covering every inch of exposed skin and Harry was bleeding more than Texas would have liked.

“Sorry,” Texas said as he pushed Harry directly under the spray. Texas pulled out Harry’s plug in one fluid movement and set it off to the side. He quickly examined the supplies available within arm’s reach before picking up a loofah to begin scrubbing Harry down. He was as gentle about it as he could be.

“It’s okay,” Harry said softly. He winced every time Texas made a pass over the welts covering his backside from knee to waist.

“It’s really not,” Texas insisted. When he looked up at Harry again, he was crying, his head craned over his shoulder to get a look at what Texas was doing. “Sorry, I’m trying to be gentle.”

“We’re not…stopping, are we?” Harry asked. There was a tinge of panic in his voice, like he couldn’t bear the thought of quitting the scene halfway.

Well, Texas supposed that was justified when he only had so much time to even do something like this. False starts weren’t really an option.

“We can talk about it after I take care of you,” Texas told him.

The unfortunate side effect of scrubbing the sand out of the wounds on Harry’s legs was that the action only aggravated the injuries even more, resulting in a swirl of cloudy scarlet flowing into the shower drain as Texas worked. Afterward, he quickly got Harry dry and then had him bend over with his elbows braced against the counter so he could apply antiseptic to the cuts.

They looked a lot better a few minutes later, when Texas could see that the thin lines were already starting to scab over. He breathed out a quiet sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure he could have forgiven himself if he’d permanently disfigured Harry Styles. No, if he’d hurt _Harry_.

That realization was scarier than everything else combined, and he ended up sitting down on the bed to wait out the cognitive dissonance, pulling Harry along with him and keeping Harry caged in between his thighs, Texas’s forehead pressed close to Harry’s naked belly.

“You okay?” Harry asked cautiously, threading his fingers into Texas’s thick brown hair.

“Yeah,” he replied roughly. “Just give me another minute.”

Texas breathed in, then out, igniting a trail of goose bumps along the sparse hairs leading down to Harry’s groin. Harry was a client, and Texas had an obligation to fulfill his clients’ needs. No more, no less. Those were the rules.

“You’re really okay to keep going?” Texas asked as he pulled back, angling his head up to get a good look at Harry’s face, searching for any sign that they shouldn’t continue.

Harry nodded determinedly. “I want to,” he insisted. “It barely even hurts anymore.”

Texas gave a wry smile. “We can fix that if you want.”

Harry draped his arms around Texas’s shoulders, sinking into him. “Please.”

“Later,” Texas promised. He pushed Harry away, just enough that he could stand up, and then steered the both of them out of the master suite and back into the kitchen. “Why don’t you make lunch?” he suggested, already pulling out one of the prepped meals from the fridge for Harry to finish. “I’ll be in the living room when you’re done.”

“Should I...clean up again before I bring it out?” Harry asked, nibbling at his bottom lip.

Texas considered it, trying to predict whether he would be in the mood for an afternoon romp right after eating. Probably not, he decided. He’d already gotten off less than an hour ago and worrying that he might have scarred Harry—literally—for life had put a bit of a damper on things. They would both have to work back up to it, the flow from the morning’s activities temporarily interrupted.

“No,” he decided. “I’ll let you know when to shower, and afterward you can replace your plug and collar, okay?” He waited for Harry’s nod before leaving him to his task.

Texas managed to fall back into a quiet rhythm curled up on the couch with Norwegian Wood in his hands. The further he got into the book the more confused he was by it. Specifically why it seemed so well-loved by Harry, who Texas couldn’t find anywhere within its pages. The writing was beautiful, sure, but Texas couldn’t help but feel like he was missing something.

When Harry emerged from the kitchen with a platter of sandwiches for the both of them, Texas was no closer to coming up with an answer. But he was happy to set the book aside, to leave the mystery for another time. Maybe in a few weeks, when Harry was just a distant memory again, the question would keep him up at night, but right now Texas had Harry naked and warm and present right there beside him, and he was content with his lot.

Texas fed Harry first before shepherding him into the opposite corner of the couch and partaking of their meal himself with Harry acting like a very large footwarmer. He didn’t dismiss Harry until he’d finished his own food, sending him on his way back to the kitchen with a meaningful glance.

Texas put on a movie while Harry cleaned the dishes and himself. He didn’t fuss over the film too much; if Harry had already seen it before, then too bad. Texas wasn’t really planning for him to watch much of it anyway.

Once the movie was taken care of, Texas hiked his feet up over the back of the couch, making it clear that he wanted Harry to take his seat on the other end when he returned. After Harry had done so, Texas casually swung his legs back down again, planting his feet squarely in Harry’s lap.

Harry started at the unexpected contact and then relaxed, cottoning on to what Texas wanted after just a few seconds. He rubbed gentle circles into the arch of Texas’s foot and moved up toward his ankle, applying just enough pressure to overcome the too-sensitive tickling sensation.

Texas relaxed into the touch, letting Harry work him over while he stared blankly at the TV, only processing about half of what was happening onscreen. He wasn’t surprised when he felt himself starting to get hard. It was a fairly natural reaction to Harry’s proximity and the stimulation, even though there was nothing inherently sexual about it.

Texas glanced over at Harry, wondering if he’d noticed, but Harry seemed single-mindedly focused on his current task, with no awareness of anything else going on around him as he rubbed Texas’s feet.

So Texas removed his feet from the equation, positioning them on the floor in front of the couch instead, spread shoulder-width apart. Texas wrapped a hand around the base of his cock, drawing Harry’s eyes.

“Want you to ride me,” Texas said, beckoning Harry closer with a single finger.

The movie was still playing in the background, and that’s what Texas focused on—or tried to, anyway—as Harry crawled into his lap and positioned himself above Texas’s cock. Texas held him steady while he removed his plug, and then Harry was sinking down onto him without any further warning, grunting a little as he pressed his ass firmly against the tops of Texas’s thighs.

Texas gave him a moment to get used to the stretch before he moved his hands down to Harry’s hips, gently coaxing him into action, guiding at first until Harry managed to establish a consistent rhythm, at which point Texas finally let go and left Harry to it.

It was difficult to see the movie from over Harry’s shoulders as they slowly lifted and fell, but Texas couldn’t bring himself to care. He had a lapful of soft, warm skin, wet clenching heat wrapped around his dick, and Harry was panting roughly into his ear, nearly drowning out the sounds playing from the TV.

“Faster,” Texas urged after a few minutes of letting Harry set the pace. He reached up again and placed one hand on Harry’s hip, the other against his back, pressing Harry down harder into his lap as he angled his head to get a better view of the screen.

Harry was clearly struggling to obey the command, his rhythm faltering as he attempted to speed up the pace of his movements on Texas’s cock. Eventually, he got the hang of it, slamming himself down until the noises he was making were louder even than the battle scene emanating from the speakers.

Texas leaned away from Harry to grab for the remote on the next cushion over and turned up the volume.

Texas was distracted enough that he probably could have sat there forever with Harry perched on his lap, riding him, but Harry wasn’t faring quite so well. He only got louder with every slap of his ass against Texas’s thighs, and Texas could feel him clenching up, could see his cock straining against his belly when he looked down.

“Are you gonna come?” Texas asked pointedly. It was his responsibility to make sure that didn’t happen. If Harry came, then they would have both failed.

Harry’s fingers dug into Texas’s shoulders so hard as he nodded that Texas could feel his fingernails breaking the skin.

Instead of ordering Harry to stop what he was doing, which would have been the easier solution, Texas reached his hand down between their bodies to grab hold of Harry’s balls and squeezed. Hard.

Harry froze, and then his mouth opened wide. The noises coming out of his mouth as Texas slowly tightened his grip sounded punched out. His back bowed, chin dropping to meet Texas’s shoulder, and he shuddered violently as his erection faded.

He sat stock-still with Texas’s dick still lodged in his ass, eyes wide and teary as they stared at each other for nearly a minute.

“Can you keep going?” Texas asked, rolling Harry’s balls in his hand. He was gentle about it, but there was no way it could’ve felt good.

Still, Harry didn’t complain, nodding again as he let out a breathy, hitching sigh before lifting up to start riding Texas again.

“Make me come, baby,” Texas urged, smoothing his other hand down the soft curves of Harry’s chest and stomach, soothing him as he worked through the pain to make sure Texas got what he wanted. “Need you to make me come.”

Riding didn’t usually do it for him, but Texas was so worked up from everything else they’d done that it didn’t matter. The second he started to thrust up, matching Harry’s movements effortlessly, he could already feel the first stirrings of his orgasm ignite low in his gut.

Texas clutched frantically at Harry when he finally came, holding him close and not letting go until he started to soften too much to keep his own come from leaking out. After pulling out, Texas nudged Harry into kneeling beside him on all fours and then carefully re-inserted the plug.

Sated for the moment, Texas slumped back against the couch and resigned himself to finishing the movie even though he’d missed a good portion of the important stuff. Next to him, Harry was fidgeting, shifting minutely as though he was trying to keep Texas from noticing.

Texas gave it another minute before finally reaching over and tugging Harry down into his lap, positioning him so that the cushions weren’t pressing uncomfortably into the welts he’d left across Harry’s backside. “Better?” he asked, not really expecting an answer.

Harry hummed agreeably into Texas’s thigh, which was good enough.

There were only twenty or so minutes left in the film by the time both were comfortably situated again. Texas spent the entirety of that time tugging gently at Harry’s hair, knowing that it was doing nothing to help Harry’s situation. When the movie finally ended and Texas urged Harry up off the couch, he could see that Harry’s face was visibly pink, and that his semi-hard dick matched the color of his cheeks perfectly.

“You were so good during the movie,” Texas told him. “I think you deserve a reward for that.”

Texas didn’t tell Harry what his reward was as he steered him back into the bedroom, nor did he say a word as he secured Harry’s wrists to the headboard after lying him down on his back, aware that the wounds on his butt and thighs would be mildly irritated by the sheets underneath as they played.

Harry watched Texas get ready with wide, staring eyes, gasping quietly when Texas pulled a cane out of his bag and tested it with a firm swat against the palm of his own hand.

“When we first met, you told me you liked pain,” Texas said by way of explanation as he knelt down on the bed, cane in one hand, carefully picking up Harry’s right foot with the other. “So this should be a real treat for you.” He punctuated his statement with a quick, stinging blow against the arch of Harry’s foot, feeling the muscles tense and recoil in his hand, unable to escape.

The thing about feet was that despite how much abuse they could take, they were one of the most sensitive places on the human body. Texas struck the same foot again, closer to his toes, and then down by his heel, savoring the different reactions to each.

“You made me feel so good earlier,” Texas said. “I want to return the favor.”

Carefully, he set Harry’s right foot back down before picking up his left to give him the same treatment. Harry took it well, squirming cutely without dislodging Texas’s grasp, hissing out quiet little gasps with every blow.

Texas repeated the treatment until Harry’s legs were trembling like a newborn calf’s, still shaking even after Texas had placed both feet back on the bed. But he wasn’t finished yet.

Texas crawled up the length of Harry’s lanky body, positioning himself until he was knelt over Harry’s stomach, almost sitting on him. He still had the cane in hand, and he gave it a few teasing swishes, enjoying the way Harry’s eyes followed its every movement as if hypnotized by the object. Texas didn’t give a word of warning before bringing it down against his nipple next.

Harry yelped, body jerking hard enough against the restraints that he nearly bucked Texas off, but a gentle hand against the curve of his jaw calmed him in mere seconds.

“I’m gonna do five each,” Texas said, before amending with a smile, “Well, just on the main ones. Red if you need to stop, okay?”

He waited for Harry to nod in understanding before just as quickly bringing the cane down on his other nipple, forcing out a strangled gasp. Texas, who genuinely expected Harry to call a stop to the caning at any moment, was surprised when he got through all ten hits without a single word of protest being uttered.

Which wasn’t to say that the caning had no effect. Harry was a mess; tears leaking from the corners of his eyes as he heaved out heavy breaths in the aftermath. There was even a bit of snot dribbling out of his nose, and Texas leaned down to wipe it away with his thumb without thinking.

For some reason, that felt more painfully intimate than anything else they’d done over the course of the day, and Texas found himself scrambling off the bed, quickly scouring his mind for something else to push Harry that much closer to the edge.

Texas rifled quickly through the luggage trunk at the end of the bed and stopped when he arrived at a familiar-looking tube of ointment. It was likely intended to be used for aftercare, if necessary, but there was no reason they couldn’t play with it first.

Texas covered the label with the palm of his hand, not wanting to spoil the surprise. He approached Harry carefully and squeezed out a dime-sized dollop on his index finger, making a show of spreading it between the first two fingers of both hands after he’d set the tube aside. Harry watched curiously but didn’t seem apprehensive as Texas finally lowered his fingers to each nipple to massage the ointment into the abused skin.

“Feel better?” Texas teased. He hadn’t even finished getting the words out before Harry started thrashing against his restraints, biting into his bottom lip so hard that Texas was surprised it didn’t bleed.

Texas pressed a firm hand against Harry’s sternum, knowing that if his reaction to the menthol on his nipples was bad, this would be ten times worse. He didn’t spare Harry the courtesy of even wiping his fingers on the sheets before wrapping his hand around Harry’s cock and giving it a firm pull.

Harry screamed, struggling to get away from the contradictory burning sensation of the cool mint against his foreskin as Texas worked. He was careful to avoid spreading the ointment to even more sensitive areas, however. He wanted to hurt Harry, not kill him.

Texas stroked Harry to full hardness before taking pity on him and finally letting go, but he still didn’t make an attempt to clean the menthol off, instead letting Harry stew in it until he finally adjusted to the sensation. Texas sat on the edge of the bed and watched as Harry’s fists clenched and unclenched above his head, Harry’s eyes closed tight, his whole body shivering from exertion.

There was a light sheen of sweat covering him from head to toe, and Texas suddenly wanted to lick it off of him. He suppressed the urge, not wanting to overload Harry’s sensory inputs just yet. Harry needed a break still after what Texas had just put him through.

“You have fifteen minutes to rest,” Texas told Harry as he uncuffed him and crawled into bed for a cuddle. “After we get up, I want you to make dinner.”

Harry mumbled something that sounded vaguely like assent. Texas smoothed a hand down against his tummy, pulling Harry into him, and kept him there, pressed tight for the duration of the fifteen minutes he’d allotted them.

Harry somehow managed to doze off in just that short amount of time and jerked into wakefulness again when Texas began to pull away, looking dazed but not spaced out like Texas had feared he might be.

“Come on,” Texas urged, coaxing Harry out of bed and onto his feet—as soon as they touched the hardwood floor, Harry let out a quiet gasp of pain that Texas pointedly ignored. “You should get dinner started before it gets late.”

This time, after picking out a meal for Harry to prepare, Texas stayed with him while he cooked. For a while he just hung around in the background, out of Harry’s way, watching him carefully tip-toe around the kitchen on tender feet. But as time passed, Texas grew bolder.

He approached Harry as he sautéed the vegetables for their pasta, wrapping his arms around Harry’s naked waist and settling his chin in the dip of Harry’s shoulder. “You look so hot like this,” Texas said, taunting Harry a little, trying to make him blush as he worked. “Like a sexy housewife. Should’ve made you wear an apron, maybe. Could’ve tied up the strings into a little bow so I could watch your cute little ass.” He reached back between them to give said ass a squeeze, making Harry jump, and subsequently forcing out another little whimper of pain as the shift in stance aggravated his sore feet.

Texas kept up the game for a while, murmuring increasingly dirty things into Harry’s ear to try and distract him, praising him for how well he was doing even while Texas thumbed teasingly between his ass cheeks, and in the next breath telling him how much he wanted to bend Harry over right then and there and fuck him while their dinner burned on the stove.

But Harry showed restraint, as did Texas. Their dinner was eventually finished with nary a culinary mishap, and Harry was beaming silently as he served it at the dining table. Texas watched him walk over to the other end of the table, allowing him to get as far as pulling out the chair to sit before pointedly clearing his throat.

Harry looked up, frozen in place as he stared with wide eyes at Texas, waiting for instruction.

“Why don’t you come sit in my lap?” Texas suggested. He could tell Harry was surprised by the invitation, but he obeyed without uttering a word, giving Texas a dopey little smile as he carefully perched in his lap.

Texas forked careful bites of pasta into Harry’s mouth in between his own larger mouthfuls. He was aware of Harry’s eyes following the movements of his lips and jaw, but for whatever reason, the scrutiny wasn’t discomforting.

When Harry was done eating, he said nothing, instead turning his face against Texas’s neck to silently communicate he was finished instead. Texas glanced up at the clock then, calculating how much time was left until midnight, when Harry’s twenty-four hours were up.

Satisfied that they were on course for what Texas wanted to do to conclude the scene, he finished his meal at a leisurely pace before putting on another movie. The dishes were left in the sink, to be taken care of tomorrow. Texas could tell Harry’s energy was flagging, and he wanted him conscious enough to actually be able to enjoy his orgasm later.

“You can nap if you want,” Texas told Harry after depositing him on the couch with his head in Texas’s lap.

Texas chose a more low-key film this time, a sappy indie romcom, and dimmed the lights until the room around them was pitch black. When Texas tangled his fingers into Harry’s curls, he was careful not to work him up, instead scratching gently at his scalp until the rhythm of Harry’s breathing slowed and Texas was confident he’d nodded off, somewhere around the beginning of the second act.

Even after Harry was asleep, Texas couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of him, and by the time the movie was finished, Texas wasn’t sure he could have told Harry what the plot was even about. He found himself still softly brushing his fingers over the downy hairs at the nape of Harry’s neck even after he’d turned up the lights, intending to wake Harry up so they could move on to the final part of their scene.

It wasn’t until his phone went off, signaling that they only had ninety minutes left in the day that Texas realized he had just spent the better part of twenty minutes doing nothing but absently stroking Harry’s skin, lost in some absent fantasy where he was allowed to do this all the time.

Texas snatched his hand back, startling Harry awake.

Harry sat up, blinking like a large anthropoid owl as he looked around, trying to figure out what had happened. His face fell as he seemed to realize he’d fallen asleep. “How late is it?” he rasped.

Texas shook his head, trying not to let his anxiety over the shift in their dynamic show in his expression. “Don’t worry about that,” he said, doing his best to pull them both back into the mindset of the scene. “I want you to get up and take a shower, okay? Get cleaned up again, but don’t put the plug back in.”

Texas followed him in the bathroom and occupied himself with his own preparations while Harry showered. He perched on the toilet lid, carefully trimming his nails down to the nub and then filing them for good measure. He washed his hands three different times before Harry finally emerged from the shower, but when he finally did, Texas had already laid out everything on the bed that they would need.

Harry approached the towels laid out over the sheets with a degree of apprehension, his eyes flitting to the tub of lube sitting close by.

“On your stomach,” Texas instructed. He didn’t want to give Harry too much time to think. Thinking was the antithesis of what Harry wanted to achieve. And Texas was determined to get him there.

He waited until Harry was comfortably situated on top of the towels before moving forward to begin making his adjustments. Texas started with his arms, crossing them over each other before securing the cuffs from the bed posts to the opposing wrists, giving Harry even less room to wiggle around. Then he went to Harry’s hips, lifting them into position as he nudged Harry’s knees further up the bed, till they were adequately supporting him with his thighs spread apart.

Texas settled into place at the foot of the bed behind Harry, lube at his side. He rubbed over Harry’s flanks, quickly assessing him before they started.

With Harry’s narrow hips framed by his hands, Texas was suddenly unsure of Harry’s ability to take him. He wasn’t confident that Harry’s body even had to capacity to fit an entire human hand inside of his pelvis, much less one that was slightly bigger than average.

Texas sucked in a deep breath and tried to clear his mind. He couldn’t do this if he was panicking prematurely about hurting Harry. He needed to trust that Harry would word-out if things started to go wrong.

“If you feel any actual pain,” Texas advised as he opened the tub of lube and started slicking up his fingers, “you need to tell me right away.” Because this wouldn’t be easy. But that was the whole point.

Texas started with one finger, pleased to find that Harry was still loose from earlier. That would speed up the process a little bit.

Two fingers turned out to be just as easy, so Texas quickly moved on to three, eliciting a quiet groan as Harry shifted his legs even further apart to accommodate the slight stretch. Still, it was nothing Harry hadn’t taken before.

Texas indulged Harry with a bit of leisurely fingering at that point, sticking with three as he stroked in and out, wanting Harry relaxed and aroused for what was coming next. He was careful to avoid direct pressure on Harry’s prostate, however. They still had a good bit of time before Harry’s twenty-four hours were up, and Texas wasn’t interested in ending things prematurely.

Texas knew four was manageable, but he was still careful as he pushed his pinkie past the stretched rim of Harry’s hole. The added pressure forced a muffled grunt out of Harry’s mouth as he rocked his hips back, sliding Texas’s fingers even deeper.

Texas pulled almost all the way out before pushing back in again to his knuckles, testing Harry’s flexibility.

“You’re doing so well,” Texas encouraged as he continued the slow pace of his plunging digits, endeavoring to go deeper and deeper with each thrust until he was past his knuckles, with just his thumb outside, brushing gently against the taut skin of Harry’s taint and balls. “Almost there, baby, you’re almost there. Just one more.”

Harry let out a muffled sob at the promise of _more_ , but his legs opened wider, inviting Texas in.

This time, when Texas pulled his fingers out Harry was left open in their absence, his hole a yawning void between his legs, begging for Texas to fill it. And Texas wanted to, wanted to fill it with his hand, his tongue, his cock. He stared down at Harry’s slim hips, his pert ass, the beckoning darkness at the center of him, and Texas had to remind himself that he had a job to do, that midnight was steadily approaching and Harry still needed to come. And Texas was determined to make that happen with his hand inside him.

Texas slicked himself up to the wrist, using twice the amount of lube he would have with someone more experienced. He went slow, making his hand as small as possible as he pushed his fingers forward, carefully coaxing the muscles just inside Harry’s entrance into giving way for more.

It was difficult; at a certain point, Harry’s body didn’t seem to want to cooperate anymore.

“Breathe in and push out,” Texas suggested. He gave an experimental thrust, encountering only resistance as Harry moaned, hips jolting in reaction to the attempted invasion.

Texas tried again, trying to set a rhythm to match Harry’s breathing, pushing in as Harry strained his muscles to accept him.

“You can take it, Harry, I know you can—” Texas cut himself off, realizing too late that he’d called Harry by his real name out loud instead of one of the pet names they’d agreed upon for their scene, but no sooner had he started to form an apology on the tip of his tongue did Harry suddenly engulf his entire hand with a loud wail of something in between ecstasy and relief. “Fuck,” Texas muttered to himself, marveling at the sight of Harry still so stretched out even with the widest part of his hand tucked snugly inside.

Texas let Harry adjust for a minute, waiting until his breathing had evened out into a semi-normal rhythm before slowly curling his fingers into a fist. Harry sobbed all the way through it, his tensed shoulders shaking, tugging futilely at the cuffs keeping him secured to the bed. The restraints weren’t serving much of a practical purpose, but they painted a pretty picture, keeping Harry’s back extended in a fluid line from his neck down to the base of his spine, topped off with Texas’s hand in his ass like the star on a Christmas tree.

“Wish you could see what you look like right now,” Texas said, marveling at the sight. He meant it, even if it was the kind of thing he’d say to a client just to get them hot. “Wish I could take a picture of you like this, so I can get off to it when you’re gone.” There was a hollowness in his stomach after the words fell from his lips, like he’d lost something of himself in their transmission.

Texas pushed through the feeling, tugging gently at Harry’s rim to get a feel for his reaction to the sensation. Harry yowled, every muscle in his body visibly locking up.

“Good or bad?” Texas asked, stilling.

“Good,” Harry sobbed out. “So good, please.”

Texas checked the time. Ten minutes to midnight. He could draw this out.

When he finally started to thrust in earnest, it was shallow, teasing, no more than a centimeter of friction either way, but it was enough to have Harry practically screaming from the overwhelming sensation. Texas wished he had a mirror, so he could see Harry’s expressions, but even just the sounds Harry was making were enough to have him hard within seconds.

“Gonna get you so close,” Texas told him, working his fist in deeper and then pressing down, gently at first and then rougher as he worked Harry into a frenzy, putting more and more pressure on his prostate until the noises coming out of Harry’s mouth didn’t even sound human. “But you can’t come till I tell you, okay?”

Texas could feel Harry tightening up around him, his legs shaking from the force he was exerting to try to keep his orgasm at bay. That made Texas even more determined to try to wring it out of him even though he didn’t want Harry to fail. But he knew Harry wouldn’t.

“I bet you’re so full,” Texas continued, goading him on a bit as he kneaded his knuckles directly into Harry’s prostate. “Bet it hurts. What if I didn’t tell you to come? I could keep you on the edge like this for hours if I wanted.”

Texas wouldn’t do that, because it wasn’t part of their agreement, but the idea of it seemed to do something for Harry, who rolled his hips up to meet Texas’s hand again as he let out a muffled groan.

His face was buried against the mattress now, and Texas wanted to yank him up by the hair just so he could hear the noises Harry was making again, but the tantalizing stretch of Harry’s hole around his wrist took precedence over that, the throbbing clench of Harry’s insides against his hand as he fought back an orgasm that was an entire day in the making.

Texas glanced at the time again. Not long now.

His thrusts had more purpose now, designed to yank the orgasm out of Harry by force when the time was right. Texas had only been fisted once, but he knew what Harry must be experiencing, the borderline pleasure-pain of his body being stretched beyond its limits, being forced to accommodate something that wasn’t meant to be there.

And the intimacy of it, of having Texas’s hand sheathed inside him, knowing that Texas could easily hurt Harry but trusting him not to. Maybe Texas was just as overwhelmed, even though the positions were reversed.

“It’s almost time, baby,” Texas reassured him. “Need to know if you’re close.”

Harry’s ‘yes’ was long and plaintive, the sound of spectral wailing, like Texas’s fist was the only thing anchoring him to the mortal realm.

So Texas fucked him even faster, wanting to give Harry everything he needed. “It’s time,” he said finally, feeling out of breath himself as he forced out the words. “You can come, baby. Want you to come for me.”

Harry’s back bowed on command, his ass tightening around Texas’s wrist enough to leave his hand feeling pseudo-numb as all Harry’s muscles locked up involuntarily in unison. Texas could see the muscles around his perineum spasming frantically, a sure sign of his orgasm even though Harry had gone abruptly, unsettlingly quiet.

Then he collapsed, landing face first into the mattress with only the cuffs on his wrists still holding him up. Texas moved to unfasten them quickly and turned Harry over as soon as he was free, finding him staring up at the ceiling with blank, unfocused eyes. Texas had seen Harry in subspace before. This wasn’t subspace.

Texas laid him down again and traced a finger over Harry’s cheek, taking in the sight of him debauched and destroyed beyond even his capacity to imagine. Texas waited a few seconds for Harry to come back to him, and then finally he did, with a low, guttural sound that preceded the light coming back into his eyes.

“You alive?” Texas joked.

“Uh-huh.” He barely sounded it.

“Think you passed out on me,” Texas told him. “Or something like it. Looks like you enjoyed yourself, though.” That was an understatement, if the amount of come coating Harry’s belly and thighs was anything to go off of.

Texas hadn’t gotten off himself, but there was still time for that yet. It was surprisingly easy to ignore the insistence of his erection against the outside of Harry’s hip, despite what they’d just done.

“Guess I owe you that two percent,” Harry mumbled, and Texas barked out a quick laugh, surprised but encouraged that Harry was coherent enough to remember the terms of payment Texas had set as a joke over dinner the night before.

“We can cuddle for a few minutes,” Texas informed Harry, “but then I need to get up and run you a bath. And get the sheets changed, probably. What snacks do you want?”

Harry considered the question for a moment, blinking sporadically. “Um, grapes,” he said in a slow voice. “And the cheese cubes.”

Texas nodded. “Do you want me to take your collar off now?”

“Please.”

Texas smoothed his hand over the newly-exposed skin when he was finished, making Harry purr like a cat in response to the stimulation. Texas tugged Harry in close to his body after that, and they both laid there for a few minutes, basking in the comfortable silence as Harry came down from his sex-induced high.

“Feeling okay?” Texas checked after a bit. He curbed the urge to nuzzle into Harry’s neck, trying to remain as clinically detached as possible even with nearly every square inch of his body pressed up against Harry’s.

“Hungry,” Harry replied thoughtfully.

Texas huffed out a laugh and rolled to the other side of the bed before climbing out. “I’ll get the bath started and bring you some food.”

Texas ended up having to literally carry Harry into the bathroom after discovering his legs were completely useless following the conclusion of their scene. He didn’t seem to be in any pain though, and after a quick exam, Texas had determined that he wasn’t bleeding at all, which was a relief.

Texas fed grapes and cheese cubes to Harry from the side of the bath like he was Egyptian royalty, his own erection now forgotten as things wound down for the night. There was always tomorrow.

“You should take a couple pain relievers before we go to bed,” Texas suggested before handing Harry a bottle of water to drink.

Harry slurped at it noisily, downing it in one go before handing Texas the empty container. “Did you call me by my name earlier?” he asked, tone carefully curious.

Texas froze. “When we were—yeah.” Making excuses would just make it more awkward, he decided.

Harry hummed a little as he nodded. “Liked it,” he replied simply.

Texas stared at him for a long moment. “Oh,” he said, surprised. “Good.”

Texas wasn’t sure if he was supposed to address what that meant later when he brought Harry to bed, but then Harry curled up under the sheets and asked Texas to read to him, and for the moment all Texas’s worries about their relationship changing from professional to personal disappeared.

Harry was asleep before Texas finished his recitation of the next full chapter of Norwegian Wood

The following morning, Texas woke up sated in a way he hadn’t experienced for a long time. He hadn’t even gotten off before bed, let alone been fisted within an inch of his life like Harry had, so the bone-deep satisfaction confused him for a moment, until he remembered what Harry had said to him in the bath.

_Liked it._

Texas slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Harry, who was snoring without falter. Harry had made him breakfast, lunch, and dinner yesterday, so he wanted to repay the favor.

Texas had a complete fry-up ready within the hour. He walked back into the bedroom, ready to wake Harry up, only to find him already sitting against the headboard with the sheets pooled around his waist and his phone pressed to his ear.

Harry’s eyes flicked up to acknowledge Texas, but he continued his conversation uninterrupted as Texas sat down on the edge of the bed to wait.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Harry said placatingly.

Texas couldn’t help but wonder if he was talking to one of the many partners he’d mentioned before. Maybe he hadn’t told them about his arrangement with Texas? That seemed unlike Harry, though, from what Texas had learned in their brief amount of time together.

“Yes,” Harry said. “I forgot to update the message before I turned off my phone, that’s all. No, Mum, I’m—” He breathed out a frustrated sigh and stared up at Texas again, maintaining eye contact even as he continued his conversation. “I’m with a friend. You can talk to him, if you want.”

Texas’s eyes widened. That sounded like a very, very bad idea, but before he could communicate as much to Harry, he was being handed the phone with no choice but to answer.

“Hello?” he said cautiously, wincing a bit at the awkwardness of the situation. Harry was watching him with a smug smile, as though thoroughly enjoying Texas’s discomfort.

“Harry’s friend, I’m guessing?” a woman’s voice answered.

“Yeah, uh, Texas. Nice to meet you.”

She laughed. “Well, you seem to be polite enough. Is my son having fun out there in…wherever he is?”

Texas wasn’t sure how to respond to that without coming up with a lie that Harry hadn’t yet endorsed, so he settled for skirting around the edges of the truth instead. “Yeah, we went swimming the first day, hung out on the beach a bit yesterday, watched some movies. I actually just made us some breakfast—not sure if I succeeded with a full English, but I tried.”

She laughed again, and Texas felt a wave of relief washing over him. “Well, I guess I should let you both go, then. Make sure he’s actually relaxing! He likes to sneak a bit of work in when no one’s looking.”

“Yeah, yeah, I will.”

Texas handed the phone back to Harry so he could say goodbye and then flopped back onto the bed over Harry’s lap, feeling a bit drained by the stress of having to engage in a normal conversation with a client’s mother.

Well, maybe that was what settled it, then. Harry clearly wasn’t just a client any longer.

Texas’s attempt at a full English breakfast was deemed ‘passable’ by Harry, who devoured the entire thing in ten minutes flat despite his lukewarm compliment. Texas watched him as they ate, unable to keep the smile off his face.

Afterward, Texas finally clued Harry in to their plans for the day as he gathered up the dishes to take back to the kitchen. “I have something special in mind,” he promised.

Harry quirked an eyebrow. “I still can’t walk, so if you’re planning on going out, we’re gonna have to take a rain check.”

Texas rolled his eyes. “Get out from under the blankets and lay flat on your back,” he instructed. “Arms over your head. I’ll be back in a minute.” He turned without waiting to see if Harry would obey because he already knew Harry would.

When he came back into the bedroom, Harry was lying in the position Texas had asked for, wide-eyed and expectant. He was soft still, which Texas preferred. It was more fun to start from scratch.

“What are we doing?” Harry asked as Texas crawled onto the bed between his feet.

Texas answered by placing a finger over his own lips, and Harry nodded, getting the picture.

Texas started at Harry’s feet, taking one in his hands and carefully lifting it to place a gentle kiss against the sole, where he could tell the flesh was still a bit raw from the caning yesterday. Harry shivered at the slight contact, hands curling into the sheets above his head.

Texas kissed every inch of Harry’s foot and ankle before sticking out his tongue to swipe it along the inside of his arch, eliciting a full-body shudder from Harry at the feeling. He picked up Harry’s other foot next and gave it the same treatment.

Then he moved to Harry’s armpits, nipping and sucking at the soft skin there, covered in a sparse layer of downy hairs, musky even though Harry had bathed just last night. He nosed out from the second one to press his mouth to Harry’s nipples next, making him jump again.

Texas was merciless there, alternating quickly between each puffy mound, pulling Harry’s nipples into his mouth and sucking hard before biting down on each in turn.

When Texas moved down to the laurel tattoos framing Harry’s hips, he thumbed at them first, watching in fascination as Harry’s dick finally responded to the stimulation, the head blossoming out from under his foreskin like a bright pink flower. He waited until Harry was fully hard before lowering his mouth to lick along the dark lines of Harry’s tattoos, careful to avoid any contact with his cock for now.

“Am I allowed to come?” Harry asked in a shaky voice, one of his arms thrown over his eyes like a makeshift blindfold.

Texas paused with his hands hooked under Harry’s knees. “Yeah,” he replied roughly. “I want you to.”

He pushed Harry’s legs up towards his chest and took in the sight of Harry’s hole, which almost looked as though it hadn’t taken any abuse at all, let alone an entire fist. Texas was careful despite appearances, licking cautiously over the slightly swollen skin once and gauging Harry’s shiver to make sure it was a pleasurable reaction, rather than a pained one.

“Not too sore?” Texas double-checked.

“Feels good,” Harry assured him.

But Texas didn’t go straight for the prize. He started higher, laving over Harry’s balls first, getting them wet and tight before moving down to place gentle kisses right against his taint. He couldn’t help but stroke over the skin there with his fingers, awed somewhat at how soft Harry was, egged on by how much Harry whimpered and moaned at the gentle pressure, so close to where he really needed it.

Finally, Texas descended with his lips and tongue to Harry’s hole, bending him practically in half as he ate him out carefully, with slow tender licks and a bit of gentle suction. Harry was in tears, maybe from the teasing, probably from the sensitivity.

Texas was diligently, using Harry’s looseness from their prior activities to work him open with just a tongue, before slowly wiggling just the tip inside. Harry let out a stuttering keen, his hips jolting against Texas’s chin in a futile effort to get him even deeper.

Eventually, Texas pulled away, and Harry let out a despondent moan. “What do you want?” Texas asked him.

“Fuck me,” Harry said, panting.

Texas shook his head. “Not right now.”

“Then just—” Harry let go of the sheets suddenly, reaching toward Texas with grasping fingers. “Need you to kiss me, please, I just want—”

Texas covered Harry’s mouth with his, slotting himself between Harry’s hips and rocking their dicks together in a halting rhythm, their pre-come not quite enough lube to really fuck into each other the way they wanted. But both were too overwhelmed to stop for even a second, and it wasn’t long before Harry was spilling hot and wet between them, providing enough of a glide for Texas to hitch Harry’s legs up around his waist so he could thrust against Harry’s belly in earnest.

Texas kissed Harry harder as he approached his own orgasm, afraid that given the chance he might let something he’d regret slip out of his mouth. He pushed harder, fucked faster, putting everything else out of his mind.

When his orgasm finally hit, Texas felt like he’d been hit by a truck. He jackrabbited against Harry’s hip, in the sensitive groove of his right thigh, coming so hard it actually hurt. He bit down on Harry’s bottom lip and tasted blood as he pulled away.

“Fuck, sorry,” Texas breathed out as he rolled over onto his back. He felt dazed.

Texas glanced over to see Harry sucking pensively at the small wound. “I’ve had worse,” he replied with a wry smile. “Better a bite here than on my arsehole or something.”

Texas laughed. “I’d like to think you’d have more faith in me than that.”

“Hmm, I dunno. You do seem to love putting your mouth on it more than anywhere else.”

Texas shook his head. “I’ll put my mouth anywhere you’ll let me,” he said.

“Is that a promise?” Harry teased, eyes sparkling.

Texas didn’t answer, instead pulling Harry down to kiss him one more time.


End file.
